


Spaghetti and Insecurity

by Listenerofshadows



Series: Roommates AU [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Food mention, Gen, Insecurity, Platonic Prinixety, anxiety tw, background platonic lamp - Freeform, human!AU, self-deprecation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 14:42:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15687486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Listenerofshadows/pseuds/Listenerofshadows
Summary: Virgil is neither Patton or Logan. He cannot offer emotional support or be a comforting pillar of rationality. He’s just Virgil, and sometimes he wonders if being Virgil is enough.Something is wrong with Princey–he’s holed himself up in his room and has refused to join the others for dinner the last couple days. Will Virgil be able to find what’s making his life difficult and kill it? Or will he just make things worse by being himself? (Human!AU)





	Spaghetti and Insecurity

“Dinner’s almost ready.” Patton poked his head into Virgil’s room.

“What are we eating?” Virgil asked, taking off his headphones

“Food.” Patton winked, and then vanished. A moment later he heard a distant knock on Logan’s door.

Virgil groaned at Patton’s reply. He knew that Patton meant it in good spirit, but vague answers like that made Virgil…well, anxious. He knew Patton wouldn’t poison him. Not on purpose, anyways. There was that one time where Patton had forgotten about Virgil’s almond allergy. He’d apologized profusely for days afterwards.

He put away his headphones before standing up from his bed and stretching. Satisfied, he crept into the hallway, nearly running into Logan in the process.

“Virgil!” Logan called out, nearly dropping his book as he sidestepped away to avoid a collision.

“Sorry, Logan.” Virgil sheepishly muttered.

“It’s quite alright, it’s my fault for walking and reading at the same time.” The other man collected himself for a moment before heading towards the kitchen.

Virgil followed after him. Patton was already there, moving to place a steaming pot of something directly onto the table. Virgil rushed to clasp Patton’s wrist, stopping the pot from reaching the table.

“Pat, wait.” Virgil hesitated, his next words lost in a flurry of panic.

“What’s wrong?” Patton furrowed his brows.

“You forgot a potholder,” Logan explained, brandishing said item in his hands. In the time that Virgil stopped Patton, the other had recognized the problem and found a solution. Logan was good at that. Virgil was just a problem-identifier, not a problem-solver.

Logan placed the potholder onto the table and together both Virgil and Patton slowly lowered the pot onto the potholder.

“Thanks, Virge. I could’ve burned a hole in the table!” Patton grinned.

“It’s no problem.” Virgil murmured, as he slid into his seat.

He was embarrassed about how he overreacted to the situation. Patton placing a hot pot on the wooden table wasn’t the end of the world. But Patton had saw Virgil’s actions for what they were; a concern for Patton’s safety, and appreciated them for that exact reason.

That was one of the many reasons why he loved Patton Hart. The reasons were so numerous that it was incomprehensible as to why anyone wouldn’t love Patton Hart. Virgil has and would fight anyone who would say a bad word against him.

“Bon appetit!” Patton exclaimed, opening the lid of the pot to reveal spaghetti noodles.

Virgil glanced around the table to see tomato sauce and Parmesan cheese sitting by the pot. Spaghetti. Good, Virgil liked spaghetti. It was a favorite among all the occupants of the apartment including Logan, despite protests otherwise. He always groaned and cited other healthy alternatives they could be eating compared to the Italian dish. But Virgil knew who ate the most of the leftovers from Spaghetti nights.

As Patton started piling noodles onto Virgil’s bowl, he realized something.

“Hey, where’s Princey?” He asked, referring to Roman.

The two had met during a production of Into the Woods at the local community theatre. Virgil gotten himself roped into the tech crew and that’s where he met Roman, who played the part of Cinderella’s Prince. Virgil sarcastically referred to him as Princey once, and the nickname stuck.

But that was beside the point. There was only three bowls on the table, and Virgil was sure Roman was home. He’d saw the other in the kitchen a few hours ago. Roman practically bolted back into his bedroom, coffee mug in hand, moments after a quick exchange of Hellos.

Patton paused.

“He wouldn’t come out–said he had some writing to finish up.” Patton noted with a sad smile.

“Again?” Virgil scowled.

“This has been the third night in a row, if I’m not mistaken.” Logan said,  adjusting his glasses.

“Now, now kiddos! You know how Roman gets when inspiration hits.” Patton said, thinly concealing his own concern, “I’ll bring him a plate of food after we’re done.”

“No, I’ll do it.” Virgil said, surprising even himself with the demand. But he needed to know if the idiot was still alive in there.

He cleared his throat, “I mean if it’s alright with you, Patton…”

“Of course,” Patton waved it off, “I can do the dishes tonight for you while you do that.”

“Patton you already cooked dinner,” Virgil protested, “I can still clean the dishes after I deliver the food to him.”

“I insist!”

Virgil opened his mouth, but Logan beat him to the punch.

“How about Patton and I do the dishes together?” He suggested.

“Alright.” Virgil sullenly agreed.

Once more Logan had solved the problem, this time through a compromise. Virgil didn’t hold a grudge against Logan. It was very much the opposite. Virgil admired Logan’s ability to view a situation objectively and apply rational solutions to it. He wished he could be as steadfast in logic as Logan was.

Dinner carried on without a hitch. Patton launched into a tale about the humorous pet parrot he saw today at the vet clinic. He worked as a vet assistant. Which was really the perfect job for him, despite how emotional he got when they were forced to put down pets. He knew the animals were in a better place now that they weren’t feeling any pain, but it was still really sad okay!?

After they finished their meal, Virgil stood up and made a bowl for Roman. He made sure to put an absurd amount of Parmesan cheese on it, as per Roman’s tastes.

As he left, Logan was attempting to hide a chuckle from Patton’s punning antics. As with spaghetti, Logan held a secret appreciation of puns. Patton knew this, which was why he tried fitting as many puns in one breath in his presence to get a reaction out of Logan.

Virgil walked down the hallway, taking a left at his door to where Roman’s bedroom was located. It was the largest of the four bedrooms in the apartment, as it was technically the master bedroom. It was perfect for Roman’s needs, however, as he housed a lot of his props and costumes from the various plays he participated in.

He drew a breath, balancing the bowl in one hand before knocking on the door with the other.

“Coming, Padre!” A muffled voice shouted. He could hear Roman stumbling his way over before the doorknob jiggled. Roman opened the door only about half a foot wide, causing Virgil to be unable to see the current state of his room. Looking at the state Roman was in, he had a feeling that the bedroom was likely messy.

“You’re not Patton.” Roman frowned.

“Very observant, Roman.” Virgil wryly remarked, “I got pasta for you–extra Romano cheese, your favorite.”

The other cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“Thank you, Virgil,” He said, taking the bowl from Virgil. The door started to swing shut.

“Wait just a minute!” Virgil stuck out his foot, preventing the door from shutting all the way. He grimaced in pain but continued, “We need to talk!”

“About what?” Roman suddenly snapped, his grip growing tighter around the bowl.

“Why you look like shit for starters.” Virgil bit back, folding up his arms.

Roman spluttered but he didn’t deny it. Because it was the truth. He really did look like shit. Roman was usually a fanatic about his appearance. He spent a full hour fixing his hair and applying makeup. He was obsessed with contour; making his cheekbones appear sharper and his nose slimmer. He antagonized over his outfit, even during casual outings. 

No he couldn’t just throw on a hoodie and a pair of skinny jeans and call it a day. Nor could he certainly wear those red sneakers with that shade of pomegranate, please take this seriously okay Virgil?!

However, staring at the man in front of him, it’d be impossible to know he was the same man that once ordered a pair of converse in three different colors to color-coordinate with his outfits. Virgil was almost certain there was a whole rat family living in Roman’s hair. Dark circles clung to his eyes, weighing him down like bowling balls. Usually Roman made an attempt to hide them with makeup. But his acne face was void of any make-up. He wore a baggy wrinkled polka dotted t-shirt that clashed horribly with his striped PJ pants. Saying Roman looked like shit was a nice way of putting it.

“Alright,” Roman relented, sighing heavily as he let Virgil in.

As suspected, the state of his room was just as bad as Roman’s appearance. Piles of dirty clothing, papers, and other various stuff cluttered the floor. He spotted a cluster of coffee mugs on Roman’s desk, solving the mystery of where all their mugs were disappearing off to. Sitting beside the mugs was a collection of partially eaten dinners.

This was definitely worse than what Virgil had expected. His spidey senses had been acting up ever since Roman holed himself up in his room. Yes, there were times when Roman was struck with inspiration and became obsessed with writing until it became scarce once more. But he usually was excited to share with the others in his triumphs, he loved to bounce ideas off of them.

Roman swallowed nervously, and opened up his mouth to speak but Virgil cut him off.

“I don’t want to hear what’s eating at you until you’ve actually eaten something, alright?” He said, gesturing towards the bowl of spaghetti.

Virgil glared at him until Roman started reluctantly shoving noodles into his mouth. He got halfway through before he almost choked, sobbing wrenching his throat.

“Whoa, whoa, hey.” Virgil set the bowl aside before turning to face Roman before hesitating. He wasn’t Patton or Logan. He wasn’t good at providing emotional support or being a pillar of comforting rationality. He was just Virgil, who was a walking anxiety attack waiting to happen.

But he was all Roman had at the moment, so he reached out his arms, silently offering Roman a hug. An offer the latter took full heartedly, launching at Virgil with such a force that almost caused him to fall over.

Virgil patted his back, doing his best to assuage Roman. When his tears faded away, Virgil pulled away enough to look at Roman in the eyes.

“What’s bothering you, Princey?” He murmured, “Do I need to find whatever’s making your life difficult and kill it?”

The corners of Roman’s lips turned up at the inside joke reference. It quickly fell as he mulled over his answer.

“It’s–it’s stupid.” He croaked, his voice lackluster and missing its normal regaliness.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Virgil raised his eyebrows.

“Oh you know me, I overreacted as usual,” Roman laughed apprehensively, “seriously, Virgil, I’ll be back to my usual fabulous self in no time–”

“Tell me, dammit!”

“Roman’s voice faltered as he blinked up at Virgil, spooked by his exclamation.

“Man, I’m shit at this,” Virgil mumbled underneath his breath before speaking up, “Look I don’t want to make you uncomfortable by pressuring you. I just wanna let you know that I’m…worried about you. I know saying this makes me a big hypocrite but you don’t have to face things alone. I’m here if you want to talk and I’m sure whatever it is, it’s not stupid.”

Roman studied his face, oddly quiet compared to his loud boisterous self. It could’ve only been a minute, but Virgil was already panicking. Did he mess up? Was Roman mad at him?

“I can also get either Patton or Logan if you want–”

“No, I want you.” Roman said, collapsing onto the floor in a heap. His head rested against his dresser as he let out a heavy sigh. Cautiously, Virgil moved to join him, sitting down cross-legged.

“I submitted one of my novels to a couple publishers.”

“Wait, really?” Virgil asked, eyes widening in surprise.

Roman had been working on becoming a published author for as long as Virgil had known him. The only problem with this was that Roman suffering from the usual writing woes. Too many ideas and not enough time nor motivation to quench them all.

Like in other areas of his life, Roman was passionate and spontaneous. He put his heart and soul in a project, claimed it was the One, only to abandon it for a more exciting project days later.

“I cannot write if there is no passion!” Roman once cried out when Logan suggested he should dig his heels in and finish a project.

As much as Roman went on about his projects, he was…hesitant about showing his writing with the others. The one time he allowed Logan to look at his writing it nearly ended their friendship. Logan had been rather zealous with his constructive criticism. Roman proclaimed that one day the others would be able to read his novel once it was published.

“I’ll give you all signed copies of course.” He winked.

Virgil didn’t need verbal confirmation to know that hadn’t happened.

“I–I wanted to surprise you guys,” Roman chuckled darkly, “I had it planned out and everything. I was going to drag you all to a bookstore and shock you all.”

He sighed.

“I took all the necessary preparations–but,” Roman turned to face away from Virgil, “they hated it, Virge. Th-they all hated it. I had my one shot and I blew it.”

“Whoa, whoa hey,” Virgil placed a hand on his shoulder, “there’s not a limit to how many times you can submit a novel for publishing, is there?”

.“No.” Roman admitted, sniffling.

“You’re not Alexander Hamilton, Roman. You didn’t have one shot that you threw away–you’ve still got multiple shots left.” Virgil winced. Did that sound good, did he do good?!

Roman looked back at him, studying his face.

“But what if everyone hates it?” Roman’s voice cracked.

“Okay, I know for a fact not everyone will hate it. You’ve got Logan, Patton and me–we don’t care about what stuffy old editors think, we’ll love regardless. Besides, J.K Rowling? She got rejected billions of times before the Harry Potter series was picked up.”

“Wh–how could they not recognize a masterpiece when they saw it?” Roman demanded, some of his usual vigor returning.

“I don’t know, but imagine being one of the editors who rejected it.” Virgil said. Roman let out a bark of laughter, and Virgil smiled in relief.

“Look, all I’m saying Roman is that imagine if Rowling gave up after the first few rejections. Imagine a world without Harry Potter and how radically different our generation would be because of that.”

Roman gave a horrified shudder.

“If Rowling didn’t give up, I don’t think you should either.” Virgil shrugged his shoulders, “after all, heroes don’t give up when the going gets tough, right?”

Something flickered across Roman’s face and for a moment, Virgil was worried he’d messed up. But then Roman leaned forward, burying his head into the nook of Virgil’s neck as he wrapped his arms around his middle. Virgil rolled his eyes, but placed an arm around Roman as he used the other to cradle his head.

“Thank you.” Roman whispered.

Virgil stiffened, startled by Roman’s stark gratitude.

“N-no problem, Princey.” He recovered, pulling out of the hug, “why don’t we go see if Pat and Lo are up for a movie night?”

“That sounds good–it’s been a while since we’ve done one,” The other smiled, “We should watch Aladdin–no Beauty and the Beast!”

“How about both?” Virgil suggested.

Roman’s smile grew, “I like the way you think.”

He excitedly bounded down the hallway like an excited labrador, singing a mismatched medley of songs from both the movies. Virgil shook his head at his antics, but secretly he was glad to see he’d helped Roman return to his usual self.

Virgil was not Logan or Patton. He couldn’t be there for Roman in the ways they were there for him. He was just Virgil, and Virgil was enough.


End file.
